


One of The Few

by invisibledeity



Series: God Complex [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ardyn POV, M/M, Nonconsensual kissing, Not a romance, Objectification, Obsession, Possessive Language, an omen for Burn My Shadow, ardyn sucks at goodbyes, chapter 13 spoilers, so prompto is technically unawares, some gore, timestitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 03:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16568390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: Set directly after the events of Welcome To The Machine. Ardyn's final farewell, the one Prompto never got to see.





	One of The Few

 

I’m so very proud of you, my boy.

            The hole in my spine knits itself closed, blooded tendrils wrapping over gristle and bone. I give it a moment, only a moment, then I struggle up from the floor. My limbs crack and I savour the gasps I hear in response.

            The crystal monolith still shimmers behind me, casting shards of apophyllite glass into the air, and it sets my ears ringing. I don’t need to look, I can feel its presence, I can already see the ever-present chains biting into the rock as if into flesh, holding it fast and steady — and just like that, it is too much. I extend a thought, and stop time itself. A single thought, that’s all it takes for the ribbons of seconds and minutes to surround me, bunching up like thread gone awry, before starting to sort themselves, simmer down into concrete moments like a strip of film and oh, how delicious they are, caught hanging in the no-space. Time, stopped. I breathe in the gap between. Here, I can pick any moment I choose.

            I turn, and there you are, paused in the aftermath of your final wish. It’s what you wanted; the final shot, the last move on the board before the pieces retire for the long haul. You must have known it would not be enough to kill me, and yet, you try. You keep on trying.

            You grip your gun so tight, and I see I taught you well, hmm? I wonder if you still feel me fixing those white, white knuckles fast to metal. I wonder, and I hope you do.

            I step forward. Admiring you, murderer. And, oh, I can’t help but see, the smaller that light in your eyes gets, the more piercing it becomes. Chipped away, piece by piece, until you’re refined, like a gem. I made you _less_ , I made you _stronger._

            I stop, a fraction away from your face. Precious inches, no-man’s land.

            Here you are, completely at my mercy, here I could —

            My blood is roaring in my ears and I hesitate. It seems too easy, and that takes so much of the fun out of it. But on this occasion, perhaps for once, it’s really not about you. You won’t even have to know.

            There’s something hiding beneath your skin; a tiredness that speaks volumes to your suffering, an exhaustion I would only expect after so many years, decades, centuries. World-weary, some might call it. Oh, did my daemon really take so much from you?

            I lean in, and I complete the connection. Press my lips to yours, stroke the skin of your freckled cheek with a careless finger, feel it all soft and deliciously unresponsive. Now, that’s how it should be, my imperfect creation, fruit of my labour. You should not rebel.

            Energy is thrumming through my veins as I push my tongue between your lips. You yield. You _yield._

I invade. Reclaim what’s mine, like the sea taking back land. And I want to weep, because you invaded me, you got so close to that thing I can’t stand to feel. How strange, how I want to push you away and pull you closer at the same time. Sacred, so sacred; you understand.

            But more than this I want to take it from you all over again.

            A tug at my solar plexus: a stray corner of time tries to unravel in response to my thought. It could — _I_ could — unspool that thread back to the dungeon, to the mountains, to the grove, replay every act and every veneration.

            Right now, though, I know I lack the strength, and that is thanks to you. The hole in my spine may be filled, the gunpowder absorbed, the bullet expunged, but the shadow of pain remains. Of course it hurts, it always does. Not as much as it might hurt _you_ , but nonetheless. I _feel._

I let the thread remain wound up tight. I stay with you frozen in the now, looking at your icy blue eyes, so full of the same bitterness that colours my every waking moment.

            I should let you go. I’m growing sick of this uncomfortable feeling in my soul, I’m too open under your unknowing gaze. Besides, my work here is done. Now we set ourselves to the waiting, standing vigil — and that’s a skill I have perfected, is it not? — until the luciafeiring, the celebration of light, the day the fate of the blood royal comes to an end. That is the day we shall both get our wish.

            But until then, you get a taste of being one who remains.

            What will you do?

            The answer comes to me unbidden: In all the soldieries of paradise, you’ll stand guard at the gates for your beloved King. For what else can you do? You will serve my line until the end.

            A delicate shiver works its way under my skin. I lick your lips. Take your salt, subsume it back into the ocean. Then I step away, because this is the only farewell I will give you. It’s not your privilege, it’s not your place to be given any more. It makes my soul surge, knowing this, knowing you do not know, knowing you will lack the closure.

            I turn back to the walkway, ready to leave, and start to shift time back into order again. It stretches and pulls at my body and soul, and you will never, never know.

            In front of me, the Royal Advisor sniffs and twitches away from me. Behind me, the Shield of the King grunts in spent fury. And alongside him, I hear your broken breaths, your strained disbelief, your sweetness turned all sour as I walk on down the hall. All of you; you know I have won.

            And now I leave you to the coming night, sweet soldier mine. Let us see how long before you fall into seeking; whether answers or orders, I’ll enjoy both all the same. I told dear Noctis I’ll keep you company, and keep you company I will.

**Author's Note:**

> "When you're one of the few,  
> To land on your feet.  
> What do you do to make ends meet?
> 
> Make 'em mad  
> Make 'em sad  
> Make 'em add two and two
> 
> Make 'em me  
> Make 'em you  
> Make 'em do what you want them to
> 
> Make 'em laugh  
> Make 'em cry  
> Make 'em lay down and die."


End file.
